“The next ten years, at least,” was always my answer when people asked me how long I wanted to live in the Middle East. Following the greats before me like Annie Armstrong and Lottie Moon, I admired the kind of faith and sacrifice they possessed.
My whole life geared toward that moment of stepping on the plane and beginning this adventure I had prayed for, researched, and anticipated.
In that moment, I thought that was the final surrender, to leave behind my family, my friends, my comforts, and my ability to communicate within my culture. I really did think I had reached my one big free fall and everything after was going to be a continuum based off of that jump.
Little did I know the true surrender would happen 2 years later, when God told me my one-way-ticket plan was not His and it was time to go back.
Did I hear this all wrong?